


Pierce the Room Like a Cannonball

by lco123



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: Annabelle doesn’t really know why she’s being nice to Molly. It took her by surprise the last time it happened, too; the night before graduation. Annabelle has mostly experienced Molly as a judgmental bitch in the past, so intense that it’s infuriating.And maybe mildly captivating.In a totally annoying way.Companion piece to Never Break the Shape We'll Take. Annabelle and Molly's side of the story.





	Pierce the Room Like a Cannonball

**Author's Note:**

> Last week I saw Booksmart for the fifth time (no, I'm not obsessed at all, what are you talking about?) and was feeling the Annabelle/Molly vibes more than ever. This can definitely be read independently, but it's meant to take place in the same universe/timeline as my Amy/Hope fic, Never Break the Shape We'll Take.

Annabelle doesn’t think much of the fact that she and Molly Davidson are both going to Yale.

It’s a big school, and while she and Molly see one another at freshman orientation and around campus, for the first few weeks of school they don’t even interact.

That is, until Annabelle’s walking through the library one afternoon, and Molly’s sitting at a table with tears streaked down her face.

“Shit, Davidson. What’s wrong?” Annabelle asks, pulling out the chair next to Molly’s.

Molly shakes her head, sniffling. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Seriously?” Annabelle pulls a mini pack of tissues out of her backpack and hands it to Molly. Or, she tries to, anyway, but Molly pushes it away.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“You literally have tears and snot dripping down your face,” Annabelle points out. “Take the damn tissue.”

Molly scowls at the pack for one more second before accepting it, pulling three tissues out and dabbing at her eyes and nose. “This is stupid,” she says soggily.

“Probably,” Annabelle agrees, bumping Molly’s shoulder. “But you can still talk to me about it.”

Molly looks down at the tissues twisted in her hands. She’s quiet for a few long seconds beforemurmuring, “I miss Amy. Like, an overwhelming amount.”

Annabelle nods. “I mean, you two spend basically every waking minute together. Of course you miss her.”

Molly glances up, seeming surprised.

“What?” Annabelle asks.

“I just thought you’d make a snarky comment, or something. I mean, I knew this was coming. Nobody else is crying over missing their best friend.”

“Well, Amy’s not exactly in the next state over,” Annabelle says. “Plus, she’s practically like your daemon, right? You two are unusually close. It makes sense to me.”

Molly’s brow furrows. “My daemon?”

“Come on, I would've thought you of all people would have read _The Golden Compass_.”

“Of course I did,” Molly replies. “I just didn’t think—never mind.” She sits up a little straighter. “Why’re you being so nice to me?”

“I…” Annabelle starts, unsure of how to end that sentence. She doesn’t really know why she’s being nice to Molly. It took her by surprise the last time it happened, too; the night before graduation. Annabelle has mostly experienced Molly as a judgmental bitch in the past, so intense that it’s infuriating.

And maybe mildly captivating.

In a totally annoying way.

“I don’t know,” Annabelle finally settles on.

“I thought your plan was to pretend you didn’t know me,” Molly says, her tone slightly teasing.

“I guess that plan changed,” Annabelle admits. Molly starts looking wistful again, so Annabelle adds, “It’s kinda nice to have someone here who’s not a complete stranger.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Molly puts her hand on Annabelle’s forearm in what’s definitely supposed to be a friendly gesture, but it weirdly sends a tingle all the way up Annabelle’s spine. When Molly pulls away, Annabelle actually feels a flash a disappointment.

Well. That’s new.

“Maybe we could be friends?” Molly offers. “Even though you probably already have, like, a whole posse—”

“ _Posse_?” Annabelle echoes with amusement. “Am I a sheriff in the Old West?”

“No, I just mean that you seem like you—”

“Friends sounds good.” Annabelle is surprised by how easily the statement rolls off her tongue, and how genuinely she means it.

The way her stomach bottoms out when Molly grins is kind of a surprise, too.

\--

Molly commits herself to friendship as thoroughly as she commits herself to everything else. Before Annabelle knows it, the two of them are having biweekly study sessions, morning coffee walks, and Sunday brunches together. Normally she would resist all of this micromanaging and togetherness, maybe even accusing Molly of trying to replace Amy in order to get herself some space. But there’s something about Molly that throws Annabelle off her rhythm, makes her want to hang around to see what Molly might do or say next, rather than cut and run to the next party or random person’s bedroom.

The thing is, Molly is kind of fun, and not just in a knowing-random-trivia-facts way. She’s funny, with a much dirtier sense of humor than Annabelle would have expected, and for all of her shunning of social gatherings during high school, she’s actually pretty great at parties. Before long she and Annabelle have earned the reputation as an unbeatable beer pong team.

One night after another crushing victory, the two of them are stumble-walking back to their respective dorms when Molly asks, “Why aren’t you hooking up right now?”

Annabelle has been slumped against Molly’s side as they walk, but she suddenly feels much more aware of the spots where their bodies are touching. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have a walking buddy. I mean, I’d pretty much insist we walk each other home—safety in numbers, and all that—but shouldn’t you be, like, humping someone in a dorm bathroom currently?”

When Annabelle doesn’t respond, not quite sure what to say to that, Molly adds, “That is _not_ slut-shaming, by the way. I totally support your decision to do whatever you want with whomever you want. I’m just curious why you’re here with me and not, y’know—”

“Riding some frat bro’s dick?” Annabelle supplies.

“Yeah, or—”

“Eating out a Kappa?”

Even in the darkness, Annabelle can see Molly’s face redden. “I know you’d be open to both, so…”

Annabelle sighs. “Um, I guess I don’t know. I just like being here. Making sure you don’t get murdered.”

“Oh. Okay.” Molly clearly wants to ask more, but Annabelle’s tone must imply that this conversation is over because, shockingly, she doesn’t push.

Later in her room Annabelle thinks about Molly’s question. It’s a valid point, honestly. Annabelle hasn’t been hooking up with anyone, really, since she and Molly started hanging out. She’s been chocking it up to how busy Molly has kept her, between all of their various scheduled meetings.

It’s not just lack of time, though. The desire to hookup hasn’t been there, either. Annabelle could prioritize going out, but the truth is that she’d rather spend that time with Molly. Studying or going on a walk or just doing nothing.

 _Jesus Christ,_ Annabelle thinks. _What the fuck is going on?_

\--

Amy returns from Botswana a few weeks after Annabelle and Molly complete their first year at Yale. They’re both home for the summer, having flown back together, and Molly insists that Annabelle come with to the airport to pick Amy up.

“Are you sure?” Annabelle asks for the fifth time on the drive there. “Amy doesn’t care about me.”

Molly rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure! I need someone to help me hold the ‘Welcome Home’ sign!”

“Oh great, so I’m basically just a random extra pair of hands.”

“Stop that, we’re almost there,” Molly replies, shoving her good-naturedly.

Amy steps off the plane looking sun-burned and exhausted, but once she sees Molly they embrace for about five minutes before launching into a compliment-off that makes Annabelle’s head spin.

“You two are…something,” Annabelle comments.

Amy smiles wider and grabs Molly’s hand. “It’s nice to see you, Annabelle.”

Annabelle smiles back; the joy between these two is undeniably infectious. “You too, Amy. Welcome home.” To emphasize her point she wiggles the giant sign that Molly flung at her as soon as Amy was in sight.

Amy laughs. “You’re a good friend to help cart that around.”

They drop Amy off at her house, all three of them knowing that Amy’s parents are eager for a reunion.

“Sleepover tomorrow though, right?” Molly asks anxiously. Annabelle smirks into the review mirror. She offered to drive, letting Molly and Amy take the backseat together. She kind of feels like a Lyft driver, but she doesn’t mind.

“Of course!” Amy confirms.

Molly is the first one out of the car, wanting to help Amy with her bag. Annabelle is expecting Amy to make a quick exit, but instead she leans forward and puts a hand on Annabelle’s shoulder. Annabelle turns around to face her.

“Hey, I know this is probably weird to say,” Amy murmurs. “But I’m really glad to see this.”

“Me driving your car?”

Amy shakes her head, seeming unbothered by Annabelle’s sarcasm. “You and Molly. Don’t tell her this, but I was a little worried about her. She and I sometimes have a hard time making friends. She’s told me about how close you guys have gotten. You mean a lot to her.”

Annabelle blinks. Amy has never said so many words to her, much less anything so meaningful. She doesn’t know how to respond.

“ _Amy!”_ Molly shouts from outside. “I can see your parents clawing at the curtains in there! Let’s go!”

“Sorry if that was—” Amy starts, unbuckling her seat belt.

“Thank you,” Annabelle says softly. “Just—thank you.”

Molly drives Annabelle back to her house. She spends most of the ride talking about Amy, and Annabelle spends most of the ride staring at her. Molly’s so animated, her face bright and excited, and Annabelle can’t look away.

When they pull up Molly leans toward her. Annabelle is expecting a hug—she’s not really a hugger, but Molly’s kind of converted her—but instead Molly presses a kiss to her cheek. Annabelle actually hears herself gasp. The contact is brief but makes an impact. Molly’s lips are super soft, and she smells amazing.

“Thank you for being here today,” she says as she pulls away.

Annabelle nods, trying to seem casual. “No problem.”

Molly looks down for a second, like she’s not sure about her next statement. “Y’know, things might change with Amy back.”

“I know that.” It’s a thought that’s occurred to Annabelle more than once.

“I think what you and I have is different, though.”

Annabelle wants to ask what Molly means by that, but she doesn’t know if she’s prepared for the answer.

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells Molly, opening her car door. “Goodnight, Davidson.”

\--

The summer passes in a blur of parties, jobs at two different pools, dinners with her parents, and trips to the movies. Annabelle hangs out with Tanner and Theo a fair amount, and she regularly FaceTimes Hope, who’s finishing up her grand gap-year adventure. In high school Hope was basically Annabelle’s best girl friend, though that wasn’t saying much, because before Molly Annabelle wasn’t really friends with any other girls and Hope wasn’t really friends with anyone, period. Still, Annabelle has come to care about Hope more than she’d like to admit, and she looks forward to their frequent chats.

Annabelle hangs out with Molly and Amy, too, but despite their best efforts it’s hard not to feel like an outsider. They have their own language, their own way of being together, and Annabelle wants to give them space to enjoy that. So she keeps her distance, just a little. Not so much that it’s super noticeable, but enough for her to miss Molly and actually look forward to school starting again.

It’s a weird feeling, and she tries not to dwell on it too much. Suddenly it’s September and she and Molly and Amy are flying back East together. Molly has the center seat, and halfway through the flight she falls asleep on Annabelle’s shoulder.

Annabelle tries to relax, which is easier said than done with Molly’s sweet-smelling hair pressed against her, and Amy glancing over at them every so often, like Annabelle’s a puzzle that she’s trying to solve.

\--

“What’re you doing?” Hope asks on the other side of their FaceTime call. She’s sitting on the couch in her apartment with a guitar on her lap, and she keeps fiddling with it in a way that Annabelle suspects is more for show than anything else.

“Waiting for Molly to get here,” Annabelle replies, actively not checking the time as she says it. “What about you?”

“Nothing much. Procrastinating on homework.”

“By thinking about Amy?” Annabelle asks. “Did you call me for intel? Because I don’t know anything.”

“No. Shut up.”

Annabelle smirks. She’s known about Hope’s crush on Amy for what feels like forever, but the events of Nick’s pre-graduation party definitely brought the topic to the surface. It’s been a solid couple years of Annabelle teasing-slash-encouraging Hope to just get on with it, already.

Hope sets her guitar aside and takes a sip of something viscous and red from a mason jar.

“What the fuck is that?!” Annabelle asks.

“Kombucha.”

“Gross. Please tell me this whole hipster thing is at least getting you some pussy,” Annabelle says.

Hope wrinkles her nose. “Do you have to be such a dude about everything?”

Annabelle quirks an eyebrow. “Excuse me? When did you become a prude? Oh, or is it because your heart is promised to another?” She takes on a swooning accent as she continues, “You can’t even _think_ of lying with a woman who’s not your precious Amy!”

“I fucking hate you.”

“You love me.”

"I really don't."

"You love me!" Annabelle repeats, grinning. “Just maybe not as much as you love _Amy.”_

“Who loves Amy?” Molly says as she walks in the door.

“I’m chatting with Hope,” Annabelle replies, pointing at the screen.

“You just let her walk in like that?” Hope questions.

“I have a key,” Molly reveals, moving toward Annabelle’s laptop. “I water her plants sometimes.”

Hope frowns. “Since when do you have plants?”

“Bitch, I have a total green thumb!” Annabelle replies. “You should see my succulents!”

“You growing any pot?”

“No, although I’ve been thinking about—”

“Stop talking about goddamn plants!” Molly demands.

“Well, you brought them up,” Annabelle points out.

Molly shakes her head dismissively. “What’s this about loving Amy?”

Annabelle’s eyes volley between the two of them. On screen, Hope looks about ready to murder someone.

“Nothing,” Annabelle says slowly to Molly. “We were talking about you. You love Amy, right?”

“As if that’s even a question,” Molly bristles. “Also, I’m not falling for that. Hope, if you wanted to know something about Amy, you could have just asked me directly.”

“Why does everyone think I called to talk about Amy?!” Hope grumbles. “Annabelle and I are friends, you know!”

Molly looks surprised. “Oh. I didn’t think you had any friends.”

“Okay, can you just—”

“Jared’s having a birthday party in a few weeks,” Molly interjects, unbothered. “I can make sure Amy is there.”

Hope’s eyes go wide. “Signing off now,” she announces, and the screen goes dark.

Molly shakes her head as she plops down on Annabelle’s bed. “Those two. I can’t tell if it’s romantic or just really tragic.”

“I’m going with tragic,” Annabelle replies.

“Hope’s totally into her, right?”

“Has been for years,” Annabelle confirms. There’s no point in trying to hide it, even if Hope somehow thinks she’s got her mondo crush under lock and key.

Molly leans back on her hands. “I think in some ways it would be easier to like someone when they’re far away. You don’t have to see them every day. You don’t have to be around them and wonder what they’re thinking or feeling about you, or how you two are going to interact.”

Annabelle feels her breath get shallow. “Are you talking about Nick?” Molly spilled about her feelings for Nick about a month into their freshman year. He’s an undeserving jerk, if you ask Annabelle.

Molly’s forehead wrinkles in surprise. “Oh, I guess I was.”

Annabelle forces a smile. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

\--

“So, is it just us, or should I be expecting Molly to show up any minute?” Hope asks at the start of their next FaceTime call.

Annabelle laughs. “She’s in class. Have you recovered from our last conversation?”

“I’m fine,” Hope insists.

Annabelle decides not to press her. “When are you heading home?” she asks.

“On Thursday.”

Annabelle grins. “Oh, just in time for Jared’s party! You and Amy can have a little bathroom reunion.”

Hope actually blushes slightly. “Shut up. Will I see you there?”

“Nope. I just got an internship that’s going to keep me here all summer.”

“No way!”

Annabelle nods. “Yep, I’m pretty excited. It’s at the mayor’s office.”

“That’s really cool,” Hope replies, but her tone is strained.

“You sound disappointed,” Annabelle remarks.

“Whatever.”

“You totally miss me. It’s sweet.”

“How’s Molly feel about this?” Hope asks.

Annabelle shifts some papers around on her desk. “Feel about what?”

“You staying there all summer?”

“I don’t think she has an opinion,” Annabelle says quietly.

Hope rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“What?”

“You’ve been grilling me about Amy, and you’re still not going to tell me what’s going on with you and Molly?”

Annabelle hesitates, before saying. “Wow, I didn’t think you cared.”

“Ouch.” Hope almost looks offended.

“Plus there’s nothing even going on.” Even to Annabelle’s own ears, it sounds like a lie.

“I don’t buy it. You’re, like, _soft_ around her.” Hope makes a disgusted face. “It’s gross.”

Annabelle crosses her arms. “You of all people are going to accuse me of going soft?”

“I’m just saying.” Hope looks around shiftily. “We can, like, talk about it, if you want.”

Annabelle barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, you are bad at this.”

Hope scowls. “Forget it.”

“No, no. Sorry.” Annabelle rakes a hand through her hair. She’s going to need to figure this out, sooner or later. And Hope is trying, at least. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s happening there. We’re friends, I guess. But—”

“Yeah?”

Annabelle sighs. “I think about her a lot.” Something of an understatement. “Like, kind of all the time.”

“I’m definitely no expert on this stuff, but I think you should probably talk to her.”

It’s true, of course, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. The fact that Molly is a girl isn’t worrisome; Annabelle has known she was bi since she was thirteen. She’s never full-on dated a girl, but then again she’s never full-on dated anyone.

The last person she expected to make her want to change that fact was Molly Fucking Davidson.

\--

The morning before Molly flies back home Annabelle mopes around her dorm for a bit, half-heartedly helping her pack but mostly just avoiding the conversation she knows they need to have. Molly seems to be in a weird place, too; more distracted than usual, and not nearly as excited about seeing Amy as Annabelle has come to expect.

“It’s going to be quiet here without you,” Annabelle remarks as Molly zips up her suitcase.

“Boring, too, I’m sure,” Molly adds. She sits down on her bed and pats the spot beside her. “Sit with me?”

Annabelle obliges, rising from Molly’s desk chair and sinking down next to Molly. The energy between them feels weird, charged with an awkwardness that Annabelle isn’t used to. Molly keeps looking at her and then looking away, and Annabelle finds herself doing the same.

“Say hi to everyone at Jared’s for me,” Annabelle says after a short silence.

“I’m sure I’ll lose at beer pong,” Molly replies. “Amy has no technique.”

“She has other gifts.”

“She does,” Molly agrees. “And so do you.”

Annabelle bites her lip, choosing her next words carefully. “Do you think—do you think you and Jared will—”

“ _No_ ,” Molly says emphatically. “I care about him as a friend, but not that way.” She takes a deep breath. “Not like I care about you.”

Annabelle feels her mouth fall open. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Molly rushes to add. “I just thought you should—”

“ _Davidson_ ,” Annabelle chuckles, her whole body feeling warm and light. “I like you too, okay?”

Molly’s eyes are bright. “Yeah?”

Annabelle bites her lip and takes Molly’s hand, and Molly intertwines their fingers together, easy as breathing.

“Yes,” Annabelle confirms.

“Cool,” Molly exhales. “That’s really cool.”

“I think you have a flight to catch,” Annabelle points out, regretfully.

“I do.” Molly squeezes her hand. “But we’ll figure this out, right? We’ll call and text when I’m gone, and then I’ll be home in August and we can…go from there.”

“Wow, for you that’s pretty low-key,” Annabelle comments, not even trying to mask the fondness in her voice. “I was expecting a five-point plan.”

“When can I say?” Molly bites her lip. “I guess things have changed.”

“They have,” Annabelle agrees. She can’t stop smiling. It’s ridiculous and also kind of wonderful. “But I think it’s for the better.”


End file.
